


Dark Side of The Morning

by halfsweet



Series: Parallel AU [11]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Suspicions, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 11:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: Brendon's finally back home, but he can't shake off the feeling that something's not right.





	Dark Side of The Morning

**Author's Note:**

> it's 3am. so you know what that means :)

He comes home to a dark and quiet house; which is somewhat baffling to him since it’s just around ten pm LA time. Zack managed to find the earliest homebound flight at two hours after the curtain dropped, and he was glad he listened to Zack’s advice and packed up early, because as soon as he stepped out of the building and into the screaming crowd, he and Zack went inside the awaiting car, luggage already inside the trunk, and headed straight to the airport.

“Babe?” He steps further inside and switches on the light in the living room and hallway. Patrick’s car is still in the driveway, but why was the house dark? It’s still early for him to be sleeping. Speaking of sleeping, he lets out a yawn; jetlag having caught up to him. He switches off all the light and drags his feet to the bedroom.

Could Patrick still be in the studio? Maybe he asked one of the guys to pick him up instead of driving to the studio himself.

But Pete didn’t say anything about Patrick needing rides.

He shrugs it off; Patrick’s car probably broke down.

When he opens the door to the bedroom, he’s hit with a gust of cool air from the air-conditioner. He closes the door behind him, eyes adjusting to the darkness, and finds a lump under the sheets that is no doubt hiding his boyfriend.

He places his bag and luggage on the floor and sits on the bed, tugging the blanket down until it reveals Patrick’s sleeping face. His features soften with a smile as he gently runs his fingers through Patrick’s hair; he can’t believe just how much he misses Patrick. The past few weeks have been rough on them, but now that he’s home, he hopes that everything will return back to normal.

“Bren?” Patrick stirs from his sleep and rubs his eyes before looking up at him blearily, “you’re home?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss him on the crown of his head. “Go back to sleep, okay? I’m gonna take a quick shower, then I’ll join you.”

Patrick’s eyes close again, his head nodding and lips mumbling, “don’t be too long.”

A rush of warmth fills his chest, and his smile becomes wider. Maybe things are already back to normal.

He pulls Patrick’s bangs back and kisses his forehead. “I won’t.”

He scoots off the bed and goes straight into the bathroom, stripping himself off before getting under the warm spray of water. He quickly washes himself in the shower so he can get back to bed and next to Patrick, and when he’s done, he turns off the shower and wraps himself with a towel.

He goes over to the sink and brushes his teeth, and for some reason, or maybe it’s just his impulsive behaviour, he feels compelled to open the medicine cabinet. There are some salves inside, painkillers, bandages, Patrick’s pills.

His hand reaches forward to take the aspirin bottle out. He’s going to need it with his jetlag.

After rinsing his mouth, he swallows a pill and puts the bottle back inside the cabinet before turning the lights off and putting on a pair of boxers and a shirt. He pulls the cover up and slides under it, snuggling and soaking up Patrick’s warmth like a sponge.

Patrick moves closer towards him, humming. “Congratulations on your first Broadway. Sorry I couldn’t come to your last show.”

“It’s okay.” He nuzzles the top of Patrick’s head as he throws his arm around Patrick’s torso. He does feel a little hurt that Patrick didn’t come, but he also knows that Patrick’s busy with Fall Out Boy. Patrick’s commitment right now is nothing but his band, and he respects that. “I’m just glad I’m back home with you.”

Patrick nods, yawning. “I’m glad you’re home, too.”

There’s a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, like something’s not right, but with the jetlag and a warm Patrick beside him, he closes his eyes and lets himself sleep. He can worry about whatever it is some other time.

-

When he wakes up the next day, it’s already late morning—just ten minutes until noon—and he finds Patrick still curled up under the covers, brows knitted together in the middle and forehead creased. He lifts his hand and gently smooths out the wrinkles between Patrick’s eyebrows until they’re gone.

He smiles fondly down at his sleeping boyfriend. He truly misses waking up to this.

With a kiss to Patrick’s bedhead, he climbs off the bed to shower. Once again, as he brushes his teeth, that weird feeling from last night returns, tugging at his guts and prompting him to open the medicine cabinet again.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary inside; everything is in their place. He even checks behind the bottles, in case there’s something hidden behind them, but finds nothing.

He heaves out a sigh, glad but not quite relieved either, and closes the door. He needs to stop getting paranoid over nothing.

-

He’s just finished preparing brunch for both of them when Patrick finally walks into the kitchen, all showered and dressed up for another writing session. He greets Patrick with a smile before gesturing him to sit down at the island.

“Going to the studio today?” He asks as he places a plate of pancakes in front of Patrick.

“Yeah.” Patrick nods, his hand twirling the fork and the other picking at his nail. “Joe’s got a new idea, I think.”

He pours a cup of coffee for Patrick before he begins to eat his meal. He notices that Patrick’s hands wouldn’t stop moving the entire conversation, and he would’ve thought nothing about it until Patrick starts to bounce his legs.

That’s weird. Is Patrick nervous about something? A show? An interview?

“Is someone coming over?”

“What?” Patrick blinks up at him. “No. Why?”

He shrugs. “You seem nervous is all.”

“It’s probably just your imagination.” Patrick mumbles before wiping his mouth with a napkin and getting down from the stool. “I have to go. See you later.”

His heart sinks as he watches Patrick leaves the kitchen. They usually kiss each other goodbye before leaving the house, and to be honest, he’s looking forward to do all their domestic routines again after being apart for so long.

Sighing, he grabs his and Patrick’s plates and dumps them inside the sink. As he washes them, he can’t help but recall the previous conversation. Was it really his imagination?

No, he’s awake enough to know what’s real and what’s not.

Then again, Pete’s phone call to him yesterday comes into his mind.

_“You were right. He seemed off today. I don’t know. He just wouldn’t stop fidgeting.”_

He tenses. It can’t be, can it?

-

He’s back inside the bathroom, medicine cabinet opened and an orange prescription bottle with Patrick’s name in his hand. The first thing that he checks is the filled date, which printed _07/14/2017._

He lays a tissue over the counter and dumps all the pills over it. Then, using another tissue, he puts the pills back inside the bottle one by one and counts them all. By the time he's done, a frown of confusion settles on his face. There should be less than ten pills by now.

Instead, the pill count is more than ten. Nearing twenty, even.

Just as he suspected.

Patrick hasn’t been taking his pills.

-

Patrick doesn’t get back until around 8 that night. By the time he gets back, he’s slouching along the hallway and into the bedroom, then immediately gets under the covers before promptly passing out for the night.

He watches this happening as he’s changing into a shirt, having gotten out of shower just mere seconds before Patrick entered the bedroom.

Well, that explains why Patrick sounded sleepy when he called him during the night. But he still needs to ask him about the pills, though.

Then again, Patrick deserves the rest. He can ask him tomorrow. With that, he walks over to the bed, tucking Patrick in properly and kissing his forehead before switching off the light and leaving to the kitchen to prepare dinner for himself.

-

When tomorrow morning comes, he’s already cooked pancakes for them, all plated up and topped just the way Patrick likes it. He sits by the island, playing with his phone while waiting for Patrick to come in.

Patrick does, ten minutes later. He sits across him and grabs a fork, although he takes a sip of his coffee first.

“Studio today?”

Patrick nods and begins to cut the top layer of pancake into a small piece. “We’re continuing where we left off yesterday.”

Even though Patrick’s talking to him, spilling a little about their latest song-writing session, he can’t help but observe his every little move. How Patrick keeps pulling at the sleeves of his cardigan. Adjusting his glasses. His hat. Twirling the fork between his fingers. Scratching his arm.

“Did you take your pills today?”

“Yeah.” Patrick tilts his head, looking at him weirdly. “Why?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking of it.” He keeps a straight and calm face. He doesn’t want them to start off their mornings with a fight. He _dreads_ fighting with Patrick.

But then Patrick’s left hand twitches, almost knocking over his mug. “Shit. Sorry.”

He frowns, suspicion building in his guts. “Are you sure you’ve taken your pills today?”

“Yes.” Patrick huffs and pushes his plate away from him before hopping down from the stool. “I’m leaving now.”

He looks at Patrick’s plate, still full of food. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Patrick’s already left the kitchen before he can say a word, and he sighs at the sound of the front door closing. He can’t believe this is happening.

He marches to the bathroom and swings open the medicine cabinet door, grabbing the orange bottle out and counting them. He tries to give Patrick the benefit of the doubt— _he trusts Patrick—_ so he counts them again. Twice. Three times. Four times. _Five times._

But the pill count remains the same.

“Oh my god.” He mutters, hand scrubbing over his warm face before it goes to his hair, fingers running through it.

He can’t believe Patrick just lied straight to his face.


End file.
